


The Shriek

by Deannie



Category: The Real Ghostbusters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 17:15:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1907277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deannie/pseuds/Deannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He used to tell me I was always the strong one, the one he could turn to whenever he had a problem. He'd want me to give that strength to Pete now. And the fact that it might be thrown back in my face again wouldn't stop him expecting it of me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shriek

It's the whimpering that wakes me. Whimpering that'll shortly become a shriek as he remembers how it all went wrong.

It must run in slow motion for him--the actual end took less than a minute, but for Pete, the nightmare lasts forever. And he can never wake up from it--neither of us can. I thank God every day that Egon doesn't quite realize it yet. He doesn't know how broken the world's gotten. He doesn't have to wake up in the middle of the night from dreams so painful I can't help but cry--and he doesn't have to listen to Pete go through the same thing. I think that'd kill him more surely than...

"Ray!"

The shriek. Hopeless and angry and so damn piercing... And I just lie here and listen. Been doing it for almost a month now. It's not that I don't want to help him. It's just that I can't figure out how to muster up the strength to. He wakes in a cold sweat every night, just like he's doing now, and like the coward I am, I just let him wake up alone.

His eyes dart to Ray's empty bed--his stuffed animals just the way he left them--and he sobs a little. A glance at Egon's bunk--the hospital corners still in place--and he sighs. He doesn't bother to look my way anymore. He knows I'm here.

But he won't turn to me, and that hurts like hell. The one time I tried--the one time I reached out and tried to help him, he swung at me like a wild man, telling me in no uncertain terms that I wasn't wanted. Wasn't needed... I know he's hurting. It's easier to push me away than try to stand up to this. Leaning on me would just give him yet another thing to lose.

Ray would want me to try again, though. He'd want me to help Pete any way I can. He used to tell me I was always the strong one, the one he could turn to whenever he had a problem. He'd want me to give that strength to Pete now. And the fact that it might be thrown back in my face again wouldn't let him stop expecting it of me.

Pushing myself into a seated position takes more energy than I have, and I wonder how I manage to call Pete's name at all. He jerks at the sound, and slouches back immediately, squinting drunkenly as I flip on the light on the table between Ray's bed and mine. Pete thinks the whiskey'll help him get through it, but I haven't seen it do anything but make him feel it worse.

"Hey, Zed." The slurred mumble tells me he was drinking right up until he staggered in here an hour ago. "Woke you up, huh?"

"Not for the first time," I grant, sliding out of bed and heading across the room to him. He jerks out of his sheets like I'm a viper. Guess nothing's changed in three weeks, has it?

"Gotta get some water." And he's gone, slamming the bathroom door behind him, driving the latch home to keep me out.

Why can't he let me talk to him? There are things I need to say--things he needs to hear. How much I miss Ray, too; how much I worry about Egon, still clinging to life as stubbornly as Peter would; how much I miss just being able to connect. Let me connect, Peter. Just let me feel like one little shred of my life is still intact, man.

Please.

But the door stays closed, silent. With a sigh, I head downstairs to start some coffee. It's only four a.m., but neither of us is going to be sleeping again tonight, and we both know it. Maybe the caffeine will sober him up a little. There're things to ask, too, and I want to hear the answers.

It's been 37 days. 37 days of doctors using that damn-fool phrase "he's holding his own." I'm as sick of hearing that as I am of hearing "wait and see." But I go to the hospital every day. I sit and watch the ventilator do its thing, watch Janine get paler and paler, watch Egon waste away a little bit more, his brief moments of consciousness giving me a twist of hope that's more painful than resignation would be.

And after last Sunday afternoon, I've been doing it alone.

Pete showed up every day before that. He braved the glares Janine threw at him every time he entered the room, pretended not to notice the icy tone of her voice when she'd talk to me like he wasn't there... She's angry. She's hurt. She knows, I hope, deep down, that none of this is Pete's fault. But seeing the guy you love being kept alive by machines as his organs fight to heal... Janine can't let it go, and she has to blame somebody. And Pete's so damn guilty himself, he's just giving her an easy target.

But he hasn't come with me since that thing with Slimer. At first I figured it was just because I was so damn pissed at him he didn't want to be in the same car with me. But Slimer's back. I'm speaking to him again. I thought, after I let him know I don't hold that against him, he'd come with me. Should've thought about it harder.

Something's changed in him--something more than that impenetrable mask he's tried to build against me. Before, he was like a lost, hurt kid. He wanted to deny what had happened. Wish it away. I could see it in his eyes, when he'd look at me at all.

But now. He hasn't been sober since I let Slimer out of that trap. It's like he's trying to destroy himself before Egon's death finishes the job. He never let the hope get under his skin, and now that Egon's showing _some_ signs of getting better, it's like he's afraid to give it a chance to. If he can just slam the door on it like he did on me a few minutes ago, he can make the pain go away.

Boy always was a fool.

The bathroom door creaks open upstairs, and I hear him head for the bunkroom door before turning and stomping down the stairs. Place is so damn quiet without them that his footsteps sound like gunshots. Like bodies dropping...

"Coffee?"

He grunts in response, and heads instead for the liquor cabinet he's all but decimated. I watch him lift a half-empty bottle of vodka and open it, pouring too much liquid into a handy glass. Why don't you stop him, Zed? Why don't you go over there and grab that damn bottle and throw it against the wall? Sit on him until he listens to you?

Why do you bother hoping it'll make any difference?

"You should get some sleep." Sound advice from a man who hasn't taken it since we buried Ray. "You'll need your strength to face Melnitz tomorrow."

Melnitz. Distancing again. She hasn't been Janine to him since she left her palmprint on his face at the funeral.

"You should come." Hope, Zed? That's not real smart now, is it? Of course, giving up hope is what brought Peter to this state in the first place, isn't it?

He freezes at my suggestion, and I hold my breath.

"Maybe."

It isn't a good sign. It isn't a sign that he might finally be coming around.

It's his chance to say goodbye.

"Maybe," he repeats, the word slurring as he studies his glass.

"Pete, listen..." I can't figure out what to say to make him hear me. "Pete, I... I could really use a friendly ear, right about now." I try to catch his eye. "There're some things I... really need to say." Will it be enough?

His glass drops to the floor, smashing loudly in the silence, and he turns from me. Turns from _me_! After all these years, I really thought I could turn to him for anything. Anytime, anywhere.

"I'm going out, Zed." His tone's rough and cold, and it breaks that little bit of hope left in me. I can't do anything but watch him leave, stomping down the steps in his bare feet, heading God knows where.

And I'm left in nothing. In darkness. Ray's gone forever, Egon's as good as gone, and Peter...?

Peter left. And he didn't even say he'd be back.

And I can't find the energy to hope he will be.

* * *  
The End


End file.
